


Biellmann spin into my life

by QuirkyNeon (iforgetlikeanelephant)



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, M/M, Multi, Non-superpowered AU, Olympics AU, figure skating Peter Parker, locker room blowjob, speed skating Wade Wilson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 02:41:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13754547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iforgetlikeanelephant/pseuds/QuirkyNeon
Summary: Wade Wilson had expected to coast in this Olympics like he did his first four years ago, speed skate under the radar and not end up on the podium. He isfinethinking that until he runs into Peter Parker, practicing his program while simultaneously being quizzed on science shit. Who can land a triple toe while talking about science? Peter Parker, apparently.So now hewantsto win, which is annoying.Anyway, now he's maybe a little obsessed with the guy and yeah, when he comes up to him while they're waiting for the Opening Ceremony to start, Wade is pretty sure that he's maybe died and gone to heaven but it's not athing.Until it is.





	1. Who the hell practices science on the ice?

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is a gratuitous self indulgent thing that i wrote because goddamnit i wanted Peter Parker to be a figure skater because i'm TOO HYPE ABOUT THE OLYMPICS

Wade just wanted to get some ice time, but the first practice ring he went to was full of Russians and...well, mostly Natasha Romanoff who actually terrifies him and really, he doesn’t want to be terrified while getting his blades on Olympic ice for the first time. The night before he heard his roommate talking about a lesser known rink that a lot of hockey guys would go just to get their blades wet so he figures he’ll try that rink before he tries another _official_ practice rink.

 

“What’s the result of complete hydrolysis of triglyceride molecules?!” A very pretty black woman is yelling across the ice at….at someone that Wade _definitely_ wants to get to know better because look at that _ass_.

 

The figure on the ice does a triple toe spin as they yell back, “They release the molecule of two primary alcohols and one secondary alcohol!”

 

“What’s in the core of the lipid bilayer?”

 

“Hydrophobic phospholipids!” This time they do a quad toe spin and land like it’s _nothing_.

 

Oh _balls_ , science guy is _good_ too.

 

_Really_ good.

 

“MJ, ask me a _harder question_ next time, okay? I know all this basic sh—oh,” the figure on the ice stops their practicing when they catch sight of Wade standing weirdly by the side doors, his big puffy Canada jacket making him obnoxiously visible in the shadows. The guy, because Wade realizes that it’s definitely a _guy_ , American if he had to guess because he was answering his smart science questions in a New York accent, skates up to the half wall that’s closest to Wade and leans against it as he asks, “I can clear the ice if you need me to?”

 

Wade steps out of the shadow finally and shrugs off his jacket, shifting his speed skates from one hand to the other as he does so. “Nah, I’m just gonna be doing loops, as long as you’re cool with sharing the ice?” He’s surprised to hear that he sounds more certain than he feels so he smirks as he adds, “I’m gonna be listening to some music so you can definitely keep yelling about science stuff without worrying about bothering me.”

 

He doesn’t miss the blush that lights up the guy’s face as Wade drops his jacket on the bench nearest the ice, and coincidentally nearest the guy that just keeps getting _cuter_ the closer Wade gets to him. “Sorry, I have a test as soon as the games are over and this is the only study time I can get,” he explains as Wade kicks his shoes off, dropping onto the bench and starting to work on shoving his speed skates onto his feet.

 

“Nah man, it’s cool,” Wade waves off his apology with a grin and feels a little like he wants to die as he sees how _brown_ this guys eyes are.

 

“And I am,” the guys says, gesturing toward the large ice rink, “Willing to share the ice that is, sorry, I meant to answer that first.”

 

Wade finishes tightening his laces and stands, taking a moment to get the blade protectors off and drop them onto his jacket. “Thanks, man, the other rink was full of _Russians_ ,” he says as he eyes the distance between where he is and the door to the ice before he shrugs and tosses a leg over the half wall, just to the left of pretty science guy, and vaulting himself onto the ice at his side.

 

Pretty science guy laughs and shakes his head slightly. “The Russians can be terrifying,” he says as he turns to face Wade, pressing his hip against the short wall. Wade can’t help but let his gaze drag across they guy’s shoulders and chest, the tight outfit he’s wearing doing _nothing_ to hide what he’s got going on.

 

Which is a _lot_.

 

“I’m Wade Wilson, team Canada,” Wade says as he holds his hand out, grinning and raising an eyebrow at science guy.

 

“I know who you are,” he says with a grin, shaking Wade’s hand quickly before he skates off, back to the woman that’s now waving a stack of papers at them and oh, Wade hadn’t even been paying attention to her which says a lot for science guy’s looks because she’s _hot_.

 

Wade watches science guy glance once over his shoulder as he starts talking quietly to his friend and apparent flash card holder and tries not to stare too hard at his ass while he pulls his headphones up from around his neck and shoves them onto his head, pulling his phone out of his pocket to pick his skating mood for the day. After a few loops he gets into the zone but still he notices when science guy’s friend gets on the ice with them, the two of them skating together like they can read each other’s _minds_.

 

It’s a few hours later when Wade is eating with James Howlett, the goalie for the Canadian national hockey team and also his roommate, that he nearly chokes on his asparagus because, “Oh good _God_ , that was Peter Parker.”

 

James doesn’t bother looking up from his phone which, _rude_ , your roommate was almost _dying_ , as he says gruffly, “That’s one half of the American dream team, right? The pairs skating team that’s slated to win gold in the individual and also carry the team program for the US?”

 

Wade blinks at James and doesn’t know how to answer him at first because….what? “How the _fuck_ do you know all that?” He asks, pointing an asparagus spear at James and wiggling it between his face and his phone until the other man looks up at him, annoyance clear on his face.

 

“ _Everyone_ knows that, Wilson,” James sounds as put upon as he looks, a toothpick hanging from his mouth as he gestures around the cafeteria, “The figure skaters are shaking in their pristine white _boots_ because of those two, this _can’t_ be news to you.”

 

“What’s _news to me_ is that Peter Parker is a goddamn _looker_ ,” Wade says before he shoves the last of his vegetables into his mouth.

 

“Again, _everyone_ knows that,” James says and it’s a little surprising that he would admit that but maybe there’s hope for him yet. Wade looks at James when he kicks his shin and grimaces as the goalie says, “You’re _not_ fucking half of the dream team.” He pauses long enough for Wade to decide to make a smart ass comment before he adds, “Or _both_ of the dream team. Keep your dick far away from America, please, for the sake of international cooperation.”

 

“International _magical_ cooperation,” Wade mumbles under his breath mockingly as the US hockey team makes a goddamn _entrance_ in the cafeteria.

 

The captain of the team, and Wade’s personal wet dream Steve Rogers, stops by their table and shakes James’ hand, looking like a kid on Christmas. “Logan, can I call you Logan? It’s such an honor to meet you, seriously,” Steve is babbling a little and this is great for Wade because he personally was never a fan of the Canadiens (go Canucks!) so James being his roommate is whatever but he forgets that James Howlett was a Big Deal.

 

Now he’s just a Big Dick (physically and metaphorically).

 

That’s a good one, he needs to write that down or something, see if he can work it into a Post Gold interview.

 

“It’s good to meet you, Rogers, I hear you did good things for the hockey program at NYU,” Howlett says as he stands, clapping Roger’s on the shoulder and making him look like he’s gonna _wet_ himself.

 

“This is amazing,” Wade says to the tall, blond, adonis next to Rogers, raising an eyebrow, “I think your captain wants to blow my James.”

 

“ _Maybe another James_ ,” the shorter man next to the tall, blond, _not_ Rogers says with a snort of laughter, “Captain America here has a _boyfriend_ , dontcha know?”

 

And of _course_ Wade knows about Steve Rogers and his Paralympian Heart Throb Boyfriend: James Barnes. Wade knows _intimately_ about James Barnes and Steve Rogers’ Beautiful Romance because he’s read (fanfiction) the tabloids enough that he feels like he was there for the whole thing unfolding. The rumor of the Epic Rising of Stucky™ is that it happened when they were both on NYU hockey team when they were in college, before Bucky Barnes went off to fight the (debatable) good fight for the USA over in Afghanistan and Steve Rogers got drafted by the Islanders.

 

Rogers ended up with a torn ACL that meant he had to take too much time off for recovery, and the Islanders bought him out of the rest of his contract. Once he was healed up enough to play he started playing on their feeder team and eventually started coaching the NYU team because they made him an offer and Steve felt like he was wallowing (Wade _knows_ he read that in an article somewhere, from an interview with Steve). He was asked to join the US hockey team when the NHL ruled that they weren’t letting their professionals off for the Olympics, and he didn’t accept until the 2022 Olympics, but only because Bucky had been asked to join the US Paralympic team as well.

 

Like he said, he _wasn’t_ there, but he definitely _feels_ like he was.

 

“Yeah that dude that’s a better right wing than you can dream of being isn’t he, Colbert?” James says to the blond next to Rogers and oh, _Brad_ _Colbert_ , one of the US national hockey league’s right wings.

 

Rogers laughs and Wade is starstruck enough that he has to take a bite of his sandwich to hide the embarrassed giggle he feels clawing at the back of his throat. It’s only made worse when the shorter guy narrows his eyes and says, “You’re Wade Wilson, right, the derby dude turned college professor turned speed skate Jedi?”

 

“I wouldn’t say _Jedi_ ,” James snorts out a laugh and Wade is glad he hasn’t tried to swallow yet because he would have absolutely choked and died.

 

“I _would_ say Jedi,” Wade disagrees around his mouthful of food before he swallows and continues, “I’m the best, _around,_ no one’s ever gonna bring me dooowwnnnn.” The shorter guy next to Colbert does a little shoulder shimmy as Wade sings horribly off key and he decides that he likes that guy.

 

Whoever he is.

 

“Who are you?” Wade asks as he points at the shorter dude, narrowing his eyes as he sees the very tops of some tattoos poking out from his collar.

 

He gasps and clutches at his chest and Colbert rolls his eyes. “This is Ray Person, one half of our bobsled team and the worst thing that’s ever happened in my life,” Colbert says, getting another gasp from the guy.

 

“I am the best goddamn thing in your life and you’d do well to remember it, _honey_ ,” Ray says, batting his lashes at Colbert and yeah, holy shit Wade needs to be his new best friend.

 

“How do you feel about Canada, Ray?” Wade asks as he gestures to the open seat across from him, feeling satisfied when he drops onto the chair and drags Colbert down with him on the bench.

 

Ray looks at him seriously for a moment and Wade wonders if he offended him until he speaks.  “Your bacon is fuckin’ _ham,_ what the _fuck,_ homes?” Ray asks, pointing an accusing finger in Wades face before he swipes a carrot stick from his plate.

 

Wade scoffs and cracks open his energy drink, trying to fight off the jet lag that’s been nipping at his heels all day. “I’ll have you know that our bacon is real bacon, thank you very much, your American bacon is shit, dude,” he argues, pointing a finger in Ray’s face as well.

 

_“E.T._ phone home,” Ray says, wiggling his finger in Wade’s face and making him cackle, nearly spilling his energy drink down his shirt.

 

“You’re my new favorite American,” Wade decides as he lowers his finger from Ray’s face, using that hand to grab his energy drink and take a big swig.

 

James looks annoyed with their new table guests but Steve sits himself next to Wade (who feels like he might _die,_ holy _shit),_ as James says, “Thought you wanted to fuck Parker?”

 

“I _do_ want to fuck Parker,” Wade acknowledges which makes the three Americans look at him with varying degrees of interest, “But Ray here is marriage material. Tell me, if I win gold will you be my husband?

 

Ray laughs outright at that and Wade feels a little self conscious because wow, if he was serious that would sting. “I’d have to ask my secret boyfriend but yeah sure, Wade, I’ll get hitched with ya if you win gold, and also, let’s make this more exciting, if you manage to actually fuck Parker,” Wade snorts out a laugh at how serious Ray is trying to pretend to be and yeah, okay.

 

“Peter is _disappointingly_ out of my league,” Wade decides as he catches sight of Peter and the pretty black woman from earlier and yeah, Jesus _fuck_ how had he not realized that that’s _Michelle Jones,_ entering the cafeteria in all their gorgeous, graceful beauty. “He’s all lithe beauty and thighs I want to be smothered with, and under this admittedly great outfit I am two hundred pounds of burnt up flesh and disappointment,” he says as he gestures to the sparse scarring on his face and the barely visible worse burns on his throat, “Not even my dazzling personality can make up for that mess.”

 

“It’s true, you’re pretty disgusting,” James says and honestly, that’s the nicest thing he’s said to him about his appearance since they’ve been rooming together which makes Wade cackle and shoots finger guns at James because _awwww,_ he’ll soften him up yet

 

“I don’t know, I’d probably fuck you,” Ray says as he eyes Wade and this guy, he’s definitely Wade’s favorite American.

 

“Ray, RayRay, Raayyy, I am officially in love with you,” Wade decides as he downs the rest of his energy drink, interested in the angry look that he’s getting from Brad Colbert and maybe Ray _wasn’t_ kidding when he said he had to ask his secret boyfriend.

 

“With a bag on my head,” Ray adds and _heeeyyy_.

 

Wade laughs anyway, tilting his head back as he does. “Well boys,” he starts, standing up and swinging his legs out from under the table, “It’s been fun but I have to go do some official practicing on the long track and then try to get some beauty sleep in before the opening ceremony.” He gathers his plate and empty can and does a bit of a curtsey before he leaves the group, listening to Steve pull James into a conversation about the current college players that might make good NHL prospects, a conversation that Wade’s very glad he’s not going to be a part of because he both doesn’t have an opinion and doesn’t care.


	2. Opening Ceremony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Opening Ceremony is upon us! 
> 
> ...and Wade has the queer pressure of the world on his shoulders as the first openly queer person to hold the flag for Canada. 
> 
>  
> 
> _No pressure_

Wade rolls into his and James’ shared room around five PM, his gym bag hanging heavily at his side as he shoves the key back into his hoodie pocket. He glances at the still form of James sprawled on his bed and thinks that a nap might be a great idea.

 

A _really_ great idea.

 

Wade has just collapsed face first onto _his_ bed when James’ alarm rings out loudly in the quiet room. He groans and shoves his head under the pillow hoping that maybe, just _maybe_ , James will let him sleep even though he _knows_ the only reason the alarm was set is because they’re supposed to be meeting up with the rest of Team Canada for dinner before the opening ceremony begins.

 

“Get up, Wilson,” James’ voice is gruff and Wade feels a pillow hit his back, “Canada time.”

 

“I love my country,” Wade says loudly, covering the pillow on his head with his arms and trying to bunker down, “But _fuck Canada_ , I need to _sleep_.”

 

James snorts out a laugh and then starts rummaging around, quiet enough that Wade actually manages to doze off while the other man is getting showered and dressed. He’s never been so happy that he used the gym shower than he is right now, drooling against his sheets and catching a much needed nap.

 

“Alright, you napped,” James’ voice is loud, _so loud_ , and he shakes Wade this time, ripping the pillow off of his head and causing Wade to groan and roll onto his back, starfishing in the middle of his bed.

 

“I didn’t nap _enough_ , man, I skated like five miles,” Wade complains, sitting up and yawning loudly.

 

“Not my fault, asshole, and that also sounds an awful lot like a personal problem,” James says, smacking Wade _with his own pillow_ which, _rude_. “We have team dinner and then the ceremony,” he says, tossing Wade’s pillow next to his legs, “Get up and dress like a normal human being, please, camera ready so that I’m not ashamed to be from the same country as you.”

 

“I would _never_ dress like anything less than a real person, the love of my life Justin Trudeau, is going to see me so of course I’ll be dressed nice,” Wade says, rolling his eyes, as he finally stands up and moves toward his suitcase.

 

“You have a lot of loves of your life,” James says to Wade as he strips out of his practice clothes, slipping into a pair of skintight jeans and a white turtleneck.

 

Wade snorts out a laugh and starts pulling on his combat boots, lacing them as he responds, “I just have a lot of love to give!” He wants to say more but he looks over at James and the asshole is wearing his Canada parka, looking so uncomfortable that Wade can’t help but cackle as he double knots his boots.

 

“Shut up,” James growls, zipping up the parka angrily and only managing to make Wade cackle even louder, dropping onto his back and holding his stomach as he laughs.

 

He sits up and stands up, pushing himself back toward his suitcase and grabbing his bottle of No-Doz, shaking two into his hand and dry swallowing them, the minty taste blooming on his tongue and the back of his throat. “Alright, asshole, let’s get this shit rolling,” he says as he slides his own Canada parka on, settling into the warm down jacket with much more grace than _James_ managed to.

 

Team dinner is _nice_ , and Wade is annoyed at first that everything is going so well but then the No-Doz starts working its magic and it’s _great_. “Wade, you’re slated to win gold, what’s that like?” Relative newbie Lillian Crawley asks, draping an arm over his shoulders as they sit next to each other.

 

He snorts out a laugh and shakes his head, “Creepy Crawley, you’re gonna be _fine_ , I might be slated to win gold but _you’re_ slated to beat the Russian ice skater for teams all on your own which is a _feat_ and which also means you’ll be seeing gold this year.”

 

Lillian groans and says, “That’s only for team skating, man, there’s no way I’m gonna beat their _singles_ skater. Natasha Romanoff is as terrifying and talented as she is good looking.”

 

“That she is, buddy, that she is,” Wade agrees, knowing Lillian’s fears from first hand experience. Natasha used to be a speed skater, back in the day, and Wade was never so happy that there was a gender division in the Olympics because Natasha would have wiped the floor with him.

 

She _has_ wiped the floor with him.

 

“Also, being in the running for gold doesn’t really mean anything,” Eugene Judd says snarkily, “You were slated for gold in Pyeongchang too, weren’t you? And we all know how _that_ went.”

 

Wade rolls his eyes and takes a large bite of the burger that he’s got in front of him, starving suddenly. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you over the fact that you weren’t even _in_ Pyeongchang,” he says around a mouthful of food, earning a laugh from Lillian and a snort of _something_ from James.

 

Eugene glares at Wade hard enough that he wonders if he’s gonna have to fight the dude. He doesn’t _want_ to, but if he has to he _will_. “At least I’m not….a washed up old man,” Eugene snaps as he digs into his own food and it’s childish enough that Wade cackles after he’s swallowed the food in his mouth.

 

Lillian takes her arm back so that she can two hand her own burger before she says to Eugene, “Wade might be older but he’s a damn sight better than you are, Gennie.”

 

“Fuck off, _Creepy_ ,” Eugene rolls his eyes and Wade smirks because good, Lillian should drag that little asshole down a peg or two.

 

“Now, now children, _play nice_ ,” Heather McNeil-Hudson, one half of their couples figure skating team says, narrowing her eyes at Wade as she adds, “Don’t encourage them, Wilson.”

 

“Yes, _mom_ ,” Wade says around a mouthful of food, earning himself an elbow to the side from James, his roommate, and Heather’s husband (and couple’s partner) James Hudson. Basically, Wade is in a James sandwich and both sides of his torso now might have elbow shaped bruises.

 

He hisses in exaggerated pain, “Hey, careful with the gold winning merchandise.”

 

“If you win gold I’ll pack your suitcases _myself_ ,” James says and that’s….the best reason to win gold that Wade’s ever heard.

 

“Oh good! You’ll get to figure out how to fit all those stuffed animals that they throw at me into my bags to that I won’t have to,” Wade says, grinning after he finally swallows his last bite.

 

The rest of the dinner goes pretty smoothly after that, with only minimal arguing over the type of dessert that they should get (Wade voted the double chocolate brownie, a la mode, but was outvoted by the killjoys that wanted the goddamn fruit parfait...who the fuck wants _fruit_ for _dessert_?)

 

{Olympic goddamn athletes, that’s who}

 

It hits Wade as he’s being shoved into even more Canadian gear, someone fussing with his hair, that he’s about to walk in the _goddamn Olympic Opening Ceremony_ and oh, right, they _asked him to carry the flag_ . “Who the _fuck_ decided it was a good idea that I carry the flag?” Wade asks Heather as the flagpole is being shoved into his hands, his palms sweating enough from nerves that dropping it is actually a concern for him.

 

“Well believe it or not, Wilson, you’re an amazing athlete and for some reason the people back home adore you, therefore you get hold the goddamn flag,” Heather says as she hits his shoulder lightly, hard enough that Wade flinches and nearly fumbles the flag. “You’re only the first openly queer Canadian to carry the flag in the opening ceremonies for the winter Olympics, no pressure,” she says as she walks away, leaving Wade feeling panicked as fuck and suddenly wanting the sky to open and swallow him up.

 

He’s looking around for a familiar face and he sees James so that’s where he’s off to, the flag shaking in his hands, when someone touches his shoulder. Wade rearranges his face into something hopefully less panicked before he turns around and it’s a good thing he does because it’s _Peter Parker_.

 

“I didn’t realize you were _you_ ,” he says immediately, wanting to smack himself on the mouth but setting for headbutting the flag pole he’s got in his hands instead.

 

Peter is grinning at him and Wade feels like maybe those two caffeine pills he popped before dinner have killed him because there’s no way that Peter Parker is smiling at him _on purpose_ . “I _did_ realize that you were you, it was very hard to focus on practicing when you were skating around, Michelle gave up on quizzing me and made me run through our couples program instead,” if Wade didn’t know any better he’d say that Peter sounds _nervous_ , which doesn’t seem right because Peter’s the bigger name here, all things considered, he has _corporate sponsors_.

 

“Now I feel even _worse_ ,” Wade groans, making a face at himself that has Peter giggling and _oh God, Peter’s giggle is adorable._

 

“Well, you shouldn’t, I like that you didn’t realize that I was me,” Peter says lightly, grinning and Wade thinks he detects a hint of-- _flirtation_ ? But that can’t be right because last Wade heard Peter was dating his couple’s partner, Michelle Jones. And by _heard_ he means _read on Perez Hilton_ . “I just wanted to come over and say that I think it’s _amazing_ that Canada’s being so progressive and letting someone that’s openly queer carry their flag it’s--it’s something that I hope America will do eventually,” and okay, Peter’s definitely blushing now, waving his mittened hands around a little as he adds, “I mean, I’m not _openly_ queer but I’d like to be one day and I’d like the US to select me to carry the flag and I just--I’m just gonna--”

 

Wade readjusts his grip on the flagpole enough that he can reach out, grabbing Peter’s wrist as he goes to walk away, his cheeks flushed so red that Wade is almost concerned for the head rush he’s got to be feeling from all the blood moving north. “Hey, Peter, I hope the US picks you to hold the flag one day too, you’re an amazing athlete and I think you deserve it,” he says this easily, not making a big deal out of Peter’s apparent _coming out_ because Wade gets the feeling that if he _does_ Peter might punch him. Or _cry_.

 

“I didn’t come over here thinking I was gonna come out to you,” Peter says, laughing at himself and using the mitten on the hand that Wade isn’t holding to wipe at his face and Wade _definitely_ didn’t realize that Peter had started crying.

 

Since he’s crying anyway, and Peter brought it up, Wade says, “I think it’s exceptionally brave that you came out to me, even if you weren’t planning on it, thank you.” Who the fuck _thanks_ someone for coming out to them? Wade does apparently, and Peter grins at him after he’s done rubbing at his face so it must have been the right thing to do but it still feels weird.

 

The flagpole is starting to feel obnoxiously heavy in his one hand so he lets go of Peter’s wrist but says, “I’m letting go of you because I have weak as fuck arms and need both of them to hold the flagpole, not because I actually want you to go away.” Peter laughs again and his blush isn’t going away, which is doing things to Wade’s dick that make him happy that the pants he’s wearing are approximately seven miles thick.

 

“I practice in that rink around 9 AM every morning. If you wanted to show up I wouldn’t be upset,” Peter says as he moves his hands at his sides slightly, making Wade wonder if he tried to shove them in his pockets earlier and realized that with the mittens he couldn’t. That happened to Wade before they shoved the flagpole at him and he had to take the mittens off just to be able to get a grip on the damn thing.

 

Wade also tends to not practice in the mornings. Not because he’s against it but because he likes his sleep, and thankfully all the speed skating races are in the afternoon, but with Peter looking at him like that, after having just spilled his queer little heart, Wade’s not about to say _no_ . “Yeah, I can probably roll out of bed before nine tomorrow morning,” he says easily, already dreading the fact that he’s gonna have to set his alarm there is the slight issue of, “I have a race at one so I probably shouldn’t practice _hard_ but I’m more than happy to keep you company and skate actual, literal circles around you.”

 

Peter is beaming at Wade and he has to blink hard and focus on not babbling out about how badly he wants to suck his dick. Peter is a _kid_ (he’s twenty, turning twenty-one during the games) and Wade is _old_ (twenty-six, turning twenty-seven in September) so he shouldn’t be so enamoured but he _is_ . “Awesome, great, that’s-- _yeah_ , I’ll bring the coffee,” Peter ducks his head and offers a quick wave before he turns on his heel and leaves Wade behind, equal parts confused and turned on and self loathing _because_ he’s turned on.

 


	3. (not) enough caffeine in the world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They skate together and Wade, of course, embarrasses himself.
> 
> Don't worry, Wade wins his first race anyway.

Wade can’t sleep.

 

Scratch that, Wade doesn’t  _ want _ to sleep, because if he sleeps the day of his first race is happening sooner than if he  _ doesn’t _ sleep.

 

“Wilson, time is time, it’s passing regardless of whether or not you sleep so please  _ shut the fuck up _ ,” James snaps from his bed, throwing the television remote at Wade and hitting him in the stomach. 

 

Well, Wade didn’t realize he said that out loud.

 

“Yes, and you just said  _ that _ out loud too,” Wade grimaces as James adds, “You shouldn’t have popped those caffeine pills before dinner, asshole.”

 

“ _ Fuck _ , sorry,” Wade apologizes, grabbing the television remote and reaching over, dropping it onto the bedside table between their beds, “I’m just nervous about tomorrow.”

 

“Today,” James corrects and yeah, Wade glances at the clock and it’s definitely almost two in the morning, “And are you nervous about the race or about the fact that you have a date in the morning?”

 

“It’s not a  _ date _ ,” Wade denies as his stomach flips, “Oh God, is it a date?”

 

“From what I could see,” and from what Wade knows Heather told him, because she had been within earshot the entire time apparently, and she’s a horrible gossip, “Parker was lit up like a Christmas tree, and you were just as bad. I think, and if you tell anyone I said this I’ll kill you, that if it doesn’t happen at the Olympics where  _ will _ it happen?”

 

Wade groans and covers his face because James is supposed to be his voice of  _ reason _ , not the guy that’s telling Wade to follow his dreams or what the fuck ever. “You’re supposed to be the voice of reason,” he complains, rolling onto his side and pulling the covers up under his chin, “Not the guy that’s telling me to try it with Peter.”

 

He hears James grumble and hears shifting from his side of the room before he answers with a heavy sigh, “I’m just saying, it’s worth a shot. And I’m  _ also _ saying that I’m too tired to be giving anyone advice about  _ anything _ so please, for the love of God,  _ go to sleep _ .”

 

Wade stays awake worrying for...well, he’s not really sure  _ how _ long after James starts snoring, but the next thing he knows his alarm is blaring from his phone under the pillow and he wants to die. 

 

Okay, not  _ die _ , but he definitely wants to sleep more. 

 

It’s 8:30 in the morning and Wade can’t remember the last time he was up before noon on a race day but he’s suddenly remembering why he doesn't make plans for before noon.  _ Shit _ , before 10 AM. “Ugh,” Wade rolls around on the mattress, throwing a mini tantrum and it’s  _ allowed _ because James isn’t in the room, and Wade vaguely remembers hearing something about the hockey team getting together. 

 

He showers because he’s still thinking about the fact that James thinks this might be a date and if  _ James _ got it through his block head that this might be a date than Wade should  _ really _ be on this date train. And he is, on the date train, it’s a one way ticket that comes with a mild break down in the shower and then another mild breakdown as he’s shoving himself into his practice uniform, putting his  _ competition uniform _ into his gym bag with his skates. 

 

Competition uniform. 

 

For the Olympics.

 

Which he’s here for, in Beijing. 

 

He has another panic attack in the elevator, which is fine because he’s in there with one half of the Wakandan ice dancing team and she seems like she’s panicking as much as he is. She’s much better looking than Wade while she does it, but they give each other strained looking smiles as they part and Wade is glad he got to share his panic with one of the the top ice dancers in the world. 

 

It’s not even Wade’s  _ first _ Olympics, but for some reason this one is  _ terrifying _ . 

 

{You have someone you want to impress this time}

 

Wade grumbles, “Shut up,” as he walks through the village to the ice rink he’s meeting Peter at. 

 

He’s yawning as he pushes his way into the rink, his gym bag slung over his shoulder and feet dragging just the slightest. Wade’s surprisingly more awake than he thought he would be, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t rather be in bed...or at least, that’s what he’s thinking until he sees Peter land a perfect triple front toe spin, looking like a  _ snack _ . 

 

Looking like a snack, that is, until he spots Wade and wobbles enough on his skates that he looks like he might fall, “Wade! You came!” 

 

Well, not  _ yet _ , but if Peter keeps sounding that excited about him showing up he might. 

 

“I said I would,” Wade says lightly as he walks around the rink, following Peter’s flailing arm until he spots his gym bag sitting on a bench...next to two cups of coffee and a smaller cup that Wade isn’t sure  _ what _ it is but...but Peter  _ brought him coffee.  _ “You brought the coffee,” Wade says, grinning at Peter as the other man slides to a stop on the ice in front of him, leaning against the half wall. 

 

“I said I would,” Peter echoes, his answering grin wide and Wade thinks that yeah, this might be a date. Or at least a  _ pre- _ date. “I also brought you an extra long shot of espresso, that’s the small cup, because I know that you don’t  _ do _ early mornings,” he babbles a little and then turns bright red, ducking his head and Wade wonders why until it hits him that...he’s pretty sure he didn’t tell Peter that.

 

“I’m  _ pretty _ sure I didn’t tell you that,” Wade teases as he toes his sneakers off, unzipping his gym bag and taking his skates out carefully, grinning again at Peter’s blush. 

 

“I--you’re really great, I always thought you were great, last Olympics I rooted for you to medal and you came  _ so close _ , but when you didn’t win you joked that it was because it was a morning race,” Peter is  _ definitely _ babbling now, his hands flailing as he tries to explain something that Wade didn’t really need explained, “So...I figured the extra caffeine might be a good thing.” 

 

He looks like he’s gonna skate away so Wade reaches out and grabs his wrist before he can do that, standing up from the bench and feeling awkward as  _ fuck _ with only one skate on. “Extra caffeine is  _ always _ welcome,” Wade says lightly, rubbing his thumb over the thin bone in Peter’s wrist and watching the way it makes his eyes flutter and his cheeks burn some more, his ears and throat turning pink and making Wade wonder just how far down that blush can go. He blows out a breath and laughs at himself because who the fuck is he kidding, this kid is an  _ Olympian _ , he can get anyone he wants and there’s no way he wants  _ Wade _ , as he says, “Thank you, Peter,  _ really _ .”

 

Peter grins again and blows his hair out of his face, turning his hand in Wade’s grip enough to grip his wrist tight, using Wade to tug himself back against the short wall. “Well, it was the least I could do, you agreed to skate with me,” Peter says and Wade wants to kiss him, wants to tug him over the short wall and pull his practice leggings off with his  _ teeth _ . 

 

Instead he laughs slightly and lets go of Peter’s wrist as he points out, “I have to get both skates on to be able to do that.” Wade drops onto the bench and quickly downs the shot of espresso before he gets his other skate on, so flustered that he forgets to take the blade protectors off until he’s standing on the ice in front of Peter and the other man is laughing so hard he’s doubled over. “Yeah, yeah, real funny, asshole,” Wade grumbles as he bends over, using the short wall for balance as he takes first one, then the other protector off and tosses them onto the top of his gym bag. 

 

“How do you even forget to do that?” Peter teases, popping his hip against Wade’s as he straightens up. 

 

“Gee, sorry, it’s not every day a gorgeous guy ups my caffeine intake  _ and _ wants to skate with me,” Wade teases, absolutely serious as he reaches up and scratches at one of the more obvious scars on his face, “I was flustered.”

 

Peter goes even more red, if that’s possible, and skates away while he ducks his head. 

 

_ Yeah _ , Wade thinks as he skates up behind Peter, grabbing him around the waist and spinning him slightly, getting a laugh from the other man as he does,  _ this is definitely a date.  _

 

\----------

 

“So, Mister Wilson, you placed first in the race today, how does that feel?” The newcaster that’s interviewing him is someone from a sportshow back home (one that he doesn’t watch unless he’s a bottle of rum deep and wants to hate himself). 

 

Wade is out of breath because he just  _ finished a fucking race _ so it takes him a few moments to get his answer together. “Well, it’s the first race of the Olympics so I’m just happy I didn’t fall on my face like  _ last _ time,” because that was a thing, which is why he didn’t medal, “So far I’m pleased.”

 

“And how does it feel to be one of the few gay athletes this year?”

 

Wade rolls his eyes but keeps his media smile shining as he corrects, “Well, pal, I’m actually  _ pansexual _ , which isn’t  _ gay _ at all but more like  _ gay adjacent _ .” He pauses to laugh a little before he continues, “It’s great though, to be a part of not only the Canadian family but the LGBTQIA family, and hey, I’m the ugly cousin in  _ both _ ! What a trick!” He makes a weird face at the camera that’s pointed his way, feeling his scars pull slightly and yeah, that’s gonna make the face even weirder. 

 

Excellent.

 

“ _ Pansexual _ , right,” the sportscaster sounds lost before he says, “Alright, well Mister Wilson, we do wish you continued luck! Bring the gold home for Canada! Back to you in the studio, Jim.” The sportscaster drops the happy face and the camera is immediately facing the ground, the camerawoman messing with buttons as he says to Wade, “Pansexuality isn’t a real thing.”

 

“You better hope that mic isn’t hot or everyone will know you’re a bigot,” Wade says lowly, gesturing to the microphone in the guy’s hand, “Pansexuality is a  _ very _ real thing, dude.”

 

“I’m not a bigot, I’m  _ gay _ ,” the guy says it in a way that begs Wade to argue and well, who is he to deny this guy the fight he wants?

 

“Cool story, bro, still bigotry,” Wade rolls his eyes and sways side to side slightly on his skates, “Pansexuality is as real as this scar on my face.” He points to his face to make his point, dragging his finger down the long scar runs from the corner of his eye over his bottom lip. Wade wants to say more but he spots Peter leaning against the wall near the entrance to the locker rooms and stairs to the practice ice and decides to cut this meeting short. 

 

He bows out (not so) gracefully and makes his way to Peter. “Hear you’re in first,” Peter says in greeting, smiling up at Wade as he realizes that with the skates he’s towering over Peter. Well, more so than he had been earlier in the day when they were  _ both _ in skates.

 

“I am,” Wade grins, shifting his helmet against his side as he nods toward the locker rooms, Peter walking next to him, “They say that I might win gold if my times stay like this, I don’t know how much I believe  _ that _ but it would be nice.” 

 

Peter laughs and ducks under Wade’s arm when he holds the door for him, leading the way into the men’s locker room. “ _ Yeah _ ,” he agrees between giggles, “Gold would be  _ nice _ .” Peter drops onto the floor behind a bench, shifting around until his calves are on the bench and his back is against one of the lockers, his ass flat on the ground. 

 

Wade has to peel his gaze away from the sight of the figure skater nearly bent in half on the ground so that he can make it to his locker without ruining the line of his racing suit. “So, what brings you to the race track?” He asks as he drops onto the bench in front of the locker he claimed as his, working on pulling his skates off carefully and then rubbing at his ankles once they’re free of the confining skate. Between his five mile skate the day before and his, admittedly, not exactly serious practice this morning with Peter his ankles and calves are screaming at him, making him glad that his next race isn’t the following day. 

 

“There’s this  _ guy _ ,” Peter says, grinning as Wade looks at him, “I can’t tell if he’s into me even though we had a skate date this morning, I think he might think I’m  _ childish _ .”

 

“Hey now,” Wade points his skate at Peter, “If anyone is childish here it’s  _ me _ .”

 

Peter laughs and presses his head against the locker behind him, looking at Wade like he did in the rink that morning, “Of  _ course _ that’s the part you focus on,” he sounds more amused than anything else which is  _ good _ because Wade is using these few moments to get his shit together. 

 

He’s wearing Hello Kitty socks after winning his first round in the Olympics and the cutest man in the Olympics isn’t sure he’s into him. 

 

_ Hello Kitty socks _ . 

 

“That’s just the most unbelievable part,” Wade says eventually, “Because  _ of course _ I’m into you, duh, have you seen your face?” Peter sighs and Wade hurries to add, “You also brought me coffee  _ and _ espresso because you heard me say  _ once _ that I don’t like mornings, before I even  _ knew _ you, so yeah, that kind of attention to detail is definitely something I’m into.”

 

“Well I’m definitely only into you for your face,” Peter says as Wade wiggles his sweats up over his body suit, making him cackle. 

 

“Aww shucks, this ol’ thing?” Wade finishes pulling his sweats up and pops one hand up under his chin as he tightens the drawstring on his pants with the other, “Now I know you must be joking.”

 

Looking down at Peter makes Wade feel a little exposed, which is  _ hilarious _ because Wade should definitely feel like he’s the one with the upper hand but he  _ doesn’t _ . Peter doesn’t respond to Wade immediately and he feels ridiculous as he grabs his hoodie from his locker, turning away from Peter for just long enough to grab it. By the time he’s popping his head out of the hole Peter’s standing right in front of him and it scares the  _ shit _ out of him. “ _ Jesus _ ,” Wade’s heart is hammering in his chest, “I’m gonna put a bell on you, what the hell?”

 

Peter grins and reaches up, cupping Wade’s cheek gently with his hand. Wade feels Peter’s thumb brush against the scar on his bottom lip and he thinks he might pass out as Peter finally speaks, “You have a good face.” It’s so seriously said that Wade can’t help but burst into laughter, turning his face into Peter’s hand to try and smother it. 

 

Peter’s pouting at him and Wade can’t take it anymore so he reaches forward, wrapping his arms around Peter’s waist and pulling him into a hug. “ _ You _ have a good face,” Wade counters as he presses his face to Peter’s shoulder, feeling himself blush and wanting to die a little. 

 

The hug ends after a few moments and Peter goes back to holding Wade’s face in his hands, pressing his thumbs to the corners of Wade’s mouth. “You win gold and I’ll kiss you on your dumb mouth when you come off the podium,” Peter says, a twinkle in his eye.

 

“Yeah? And what if I  _ don’t _ win gold?” Wade asks, genuinely curious. Is Peter only into him if he’s  _ good _ ? Is that his thing? Is he a--a  _ gold chaser _ ?

 

{It’s called  _ gold digger _ }

 

Yeah, right,  _ that _ . 

 

“I’ll kiss you somewhere  _ else _ ,” Peter says, sounding cheeky and  _ sure _ even as his cheeks flare red.  _ Firetruck red _ . “--but definitely not right when you come off the track, this is a family show ya know,” he says all this in one breath, pressing a quick kiss to Wade’s cheek before he scoots back, out of arm’s reach. 

 

Wade gets immediately hard which isn’t a shock considering the adrenaline he already had running through his body from the _win_ but it’s definitely not the most comfortable. The racing suit is all spandex which means it compresses _things_. Important things. _Dick_ _things_. “I’ve never heard a better reason to absolutely do my worst times ever, so thanks for that,” Wade says, grinning and swaying toward Peter slightly even as he backs away. 

 

“Ah, but you didn’t hear where I’m gonna let  _ you _ kiss  _ me _ if you win gold,” Peter pops his hip slightly and it immediately draws Wade’s eye. 

 

Wade has to clear his throat before he can talk, but even then his arousal is  _ immediately _ obvious when he says, “And suddenly I’m back for the gold! Look at that! The true spirit of the games has arrived!” 

 

Peter laughs and rolls back on his heels, his grin wide and making Wade’s own grow. “I’m serious though,” he says, his voice a little deeper than it had been and Wade is glad that he’s not the only one that’s affected by the whole situation. “You know, when I was getting the hell beat out of me in high school I used to dream about having the eye of a hot dude in the locker room,” Peter says wiggling his eyebrows slightly.

 

“I don’t believe for a  _ second _ that anyone would beat the hell out of you, you’re  _ perfect _ ,” Wade denies as looks Peter over, taking his time with it. 

 

Peter grins and ducks his head, hooking his fingertips into Wade’s sweats and tugging him forward. Wade wants to die. Super die. “You think a tiny, twinky figureskater didn’t get beat the fuck up? That’s awfully cute, thinking that,” Peter says lightly, “Even if I was  _ just _ gay it would have been shit.”

 

Wade definitely didn’t think about that, to him Peter is this awesome Olympian but to high school boys he was probably the bane of their very existence. He also probably caused a lot of teenage sexuality angst. “Point,” Wade agrees, laughing slightly and reaching out to rest his hands on Peter’s shoulders, curling his fingertips against Peter’s shoulder blades, “But I can definitely play into this locker room thing. Tell me, what did you think about doing to the hot dude in the locker room?”

 

Peter lets out a loud breath and Wade wonders if he took it too far, trying to talk him into dirty talk before they’ve even kissed and he’s about to try and back pedal when Peter sinks to his knees with a serious look on his face. “It’s probably easier if I show you, ya know?” Peter presses his face forward, curling his fingers into the top of Wade’s sweats and tugging them down slightly, just below his hip bone.    
  
Oh  _ God _ .    
  
“I can’t get my suit off,” Wade realizes with a depressing jolt, it’s zipped up by his throat and he’s already put his sweatshirt on which is just...the absolute worst thing. The disappointment on Peter’s face is quickly replaced with a grin and a laugh because this is probably the most ridiculous thing that Wade has ever faced. Wade winds his fingers in Peter’s hair and tugs until the other man stands up, slowly, pressing against Wade’s front as he does. Peter blinks up at Wade and he can’t help it, he kisses him. 

 

Their first kiss feels like a goddamn  _ dream _ . 

 

Especially when Peter makes a noise and surges into the kiss, his arms wrapping around Wade’s waist and his hands settling on his lower back. “Get gold, please get gold because I want to suck your dick  _ so badly _ ,” Peter says into the kiss, pulling back just far enough to breathe against Wade’s cheek. 

 

“I am willing to touch your dick even if we don’t win gold,” Wade says, curling one hand behind Peter’s neck and twining his fingers in Peter’s hair. 

 

Peter grins and presses a kiss to Wade’s cheek, and then his other cheek, and then his mouth, gently. “Gold will make it so much more  _ satisfying _ though,” he says, pushing Wade back against the locker next to the one he had been using. 

 

“Very true,” Wade agrees, “We can even wear our gold medals while I fuck you, if you want.”

 

Peter groans and presses against Wade from hip to shoulder, his erection pressing against Wade’s hip and making him want to bend him over right here. “Yes please,” Peter says breathily, groaning when Wade ducks his head, dragging his teeth against the pale strip of skin beneath Peter’s ear. 

 

It’s Wade’s turn to groan when Peter pulls away again and, looking ruffled but certain, says, “We keep things slow until medaling, from there we can...we can decide what to do.” Wade has a vague knowledge of when the medaling for men’s figure skating is and he thinks it’s only....a week away. 

 

He  _ thinks _ ,

 

“That’s a week away, right? For you?” Wade asks as Peter steps back over the bench, leaving Wade pressed against the locker, a little out of breath. 

 

“Six days,” Peter corrects, “Team skates start tonight, after they’re done resurfacing the ice from you guys, and individual skates start in four days.”

 

“Six days,” Wade repeats to himself, already writing it down on his mental calendar, grinning at Peter. 


	4. [six days later]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh look i skipped to the medaling, what a surprise

Peter won gold.

 

Peter _won gold_.

 

_Peter! Won! Gold!_

 

“I feel like a traitor,” Wade says to James even as he whistles for Peter, the American flag hanging high in the rafters as the American anthem plays.

 

Canada came in fourth, and James is looking _bitter_ about it, which is equal parts hilarious and sad because Wade didn’t even think that James was _that_ into figure skating. “You _are_ a traitor,” James agrees as Wade waves him off, cheering loudly for Peter and grinning the entire time.

 

“Well buddy,” Wade turns to look at James and deals with the eyeroll, “I’m off to collect on my gold winning honey while the getting’s good.” He takes the stairs two at a time all the way down from the section that he and James had been sitting, all the way to the ground level where he then takes a seat on a bench nearest the ice, watching Peter be surrounded by reporters.

 

He tolerates it for about fifteen minutes, the stadium emptying quickly because Wade thnks that there’s a luge race soon? He _thinks_. Wade honestly doesn’t care as he walks around the rink, headed toward the media section and, making sure he’s got his athlete pass on him, feeling like he wants to burst into song.

 

“--yeah, there was actually a bet I have with uh, _someone_ , that involves me winning gold and let me tell you, this gold is great but winning that bet is almost better!” Peter is smiling as the newscaster that’s interviewing him giggles, batting her lashes and Wade isn’t surprised that she’s dazzled by Peter because he’s pretty dazzled too.

 

“Ohhh, is it a _special_ someone?” The newscaster asks and Peter’s smile turns bashful, his cheeks pinking lightly as Wade leans against the wall that’s just within his eyesight, Wade wiggling his fingers at Peter.

 

“They’re pretty special,” Peter agrees and that must end the interview because the camera is suddenly being turned down and the woman with the microphone goes from professional to touching Peter’s shoulder and grinning, batting her eyelashes at him and nah, nope. No way.

 

Not happening.

 

Wade is surprised when Peter actually gestures toward him and says, “He’s come to collect on his bet.”

 

And that’s...that’s not what Wade was expecting, and the newscaster wasn’t either if the look of absolute amazement that crosses her face is to be believed. “Off the record of course,” Wade says as he pushes off of the wall, meeting Peter halfway and sweeping him up into a bear hug, spinning him and drawing a laugh from Peter.

 

“Of course,” the newscaster says lightly, shooting Wade a thumbs up while still looking confused.

 

Peter presses a smacking kiss to Wade’s cheek and says, “Put me down, you brute.”

 

Wade laughs and sets Peter down, letting himself be dragged down the tunnel toward the locker room, feeling his blood warm as he lets his gaze drop to Peter’s ass. “You look good in red and blue,” Wade says as Peter swings the locker room door open, tugging Wade through the room until they’re in the back corner and Wade has Peter pressed against the tile wall.

 

“I am gonna suck your goddamn brain out of your _cock_ ,” Wade says as he ducks his head, nipping at Peter’s throat and listening to Peter’s breath catch. “Please tell me you changed out of your suit before the award ceremony,” he says as he slips his hands up and under Peter’s sweatshirt, hitting bare skin and feeling _blessed_.

 

Peter groans lightly as Wade sinks to his knees, dragging down his briefs and track pants as he goes. “ _Wade_ ,” Peter groans as Wade wraps a hand around the base of his cock, pressing his lips against the slick head.

 

“ _Gold_ ,” Wade says teasingly before he opens his mouth, his jaw only complaining a little as he sucks Peter’s cock.

 

The noises Peter makes are enough to make Wade even _harder_ in his jeans, one hand twisting gently at the base of Peter’s cock as he focuses on maximizing Peter’s enjoyment. Because he deserves it, he’s Wade’s gold winning Olympian.

 

The only drawback? Wade wishes that he had hair if only so that Peter would have something to tug at while Wade’s got his mouth full.

 

“Wade, oh my _God_ ,” Peter’s tugging at Wade’s ears gently and Wade glances up at him, humming in the back of his throat and nearly purring as Peter shakes apart, coming down his throat.

 

He wonders for a moment how gross it would be if he just shoved his hand down his own pants and jerks off but doesn’t even get the thought complete before Peter is tugging his mouth away from him and dropping to his knees carefully in front of Wade. Peter pulls him into a deep kiss and Wade easily opens his mouth to Peter’s roaming tongue, nearly sobbing in relief as Peter shoves his hand down Wade’s pants _for him_. “I’m gonna—last a total of four seconds,” Wade jokes as Peter’s thumb brushes over the head of his cock, causing his spine to tingle and him to choke out, “Maybe three.”

 

It’s more like two, if Wade is being generous, and he buries his face in Peter’s shoulder as he comes. Peter shushes him gently and rubs his free hand over the top of Wade’s head, “You’re so great, _God,_ how do I deserve you?”

 

Wade chokes out a laugh and denies, “No,   _you_ are, you’re amazing!” And he feels a little ridiculous and a little in love as he pulls back to look at Peter’s still flushed cheeks.

 

“How many golds are _you_ in the running for?” Peter asks with a giggle, pulling his hand out of Wade’s pants and making a slight face before he reaches into his gym bag for a rag.

 

————————————

 

Three.

 

Wade’s up for _three_ golds, and he wins _all of them_.

 

After the first one it’s _Peter’s_ turn to blow _him_ in the locker room, his fingers tight around Wade’s thighs as he lets him fuck his mouth slowly, drawing it out and almost getting them caught by Prince T’Challa of Wakanda (and one half of the ice dance team) as he entered the locker room, his practice bag tossed over his shoulder when he spotted Wade helping Peter to his feet.

 

“Wilson, you’re not _bothering_ _him_ are you?” T’Challa asks, eyeing the way Peter’s arm wraps about Wade’s waist.

 

“He’s _absolutely_ bothering me,” Peter says easily, his voice scratchy and absolutely giving them away, leaning up to press a kiss to Wade’s cheek—as if his voice wasn’t prof enough.

 

T’Challa laughs and rolls his eye, grinning wide as he says, “I thought it was bro code to not fuck in shared spaces?”

 

“This _wasn’t_ a shared space before you walked in here,” Wade grumbles as he grabs his gym bag, tossing it over his shoulder and letting Peter lead him out of the locker room.

 

After the second gold there’s surprisingly little dick touching, meaning _none_ , and instead Peter kicks his roommate out to sleep in Wade’s room (the guy is surprisingly brash and Wade thinks that James and he will get along) and invites him over for pizza and movies. Well, _one_ movie (Wade might have let it slip in one of their morning practices that he had never seen the Star Wars movies and Peter decided that he needed to correct that _immediately_ ).

 

(And by immediately he meant he planned a movie night all around the chance that Wade would get gold for a second time)

 

After the third and final gold that Wade wins Peter invites him over again but says, “Later, I have some stuff I have to do right now, a short practice and a dinner but come by around eight? Neither of us have to wake up early tomorrow so we can make it a late night.”

 

Wade goes back to his room and washes himself head to toe, having a few celebratory beers with James, because Canada is going to the finals and Wade _got a third gold, shit for brains._

 

“Hell yeah I did! And now I’m gonna get fucked gently and lovingly by the figure skater that I’ve accidentally fallen in love with,” Wade says, cheersing James from his bed and nearly laughing at the sounds of disgust that James makes around his beer.

 

“He can do _so_ much better,” James says conversationally, getting to Wade enough that he can’t help but cackle.

 

“I am three time Olympic gold medalist, thank you very much, you’re only saying that ‘cus of my face,” Wade argues as he finishes his second beer, deciding to stop while he’s ahead because he _really_ doesn’t want to end up with whiskey dick.

 

James polishes off his fourth can and says, “Yeah, dude, _obviously.”_

 

_Touché._

 

That thought is definitely in his mind as he stands outside of Peter’s room, hesitating just slightly before he knocks. “Come in!” Peter’s voice is muffled on the other side of the door but he _definitely_ tells him to come in so Wade hesitates only for a second before he tries the handle, finding it unlocked.

 

Peter’s room is dimly lit and...and is that _light jazz music_?

 

“Peter?” Wade looks around and then something moves and catches his eye and _oh_.

 

 _Holy shit_.

 

It should be funny, Wade realizes it as soon as it settles in that he’s seeing Peter sprawled on his knees with a Canadian flag draped across his shoulders and the most ridiculous pair of boxers with little maple leaves on them. _Should be,_ but it’s _not,_ it’s probably the sexiest thing he’s ever seen.

 

{Which, to be honest, probably says a lot about Wade.}

 

“Hey,” Peter sounds a little breathless and his cheeks are flushed, “I know that this is a lot but I--I wanted to do something special.”

 

Wade doesn’t know what to say, grinning as he listens to Peter babble a bit. “This is the best thing anyone has _ever_ done for me,” he settles on, crossing the room and towering over Peter slightly, looking down at him.

 

“It’s not...too much?” Peter sounds unsure as he looks up at Wade, his hands holding the flag tight.

 

Wade ducks down and kisses Peter deeply, cupping the back of Peter’s head as he tilts it.

 

He’s _so_ into this guy.

 

“Of course it’s too much but I _love_ it,” Wade says as he breaks the kiss, his grin turning into a smirk as he pushes at Peter’s shoulders until his back is against the mattress. Peter grins and lets his legs fall apart slightly, leaving room for Wade between his thighs as he spreads his arms, laying on the flag and the comforter and looking up at Wade like he wants to be _eaten_.

 

“I was just thinking, when is a better time to have sex for the first time than after you’ve won three golds and I’ve won one plus a silver,” Peter says lightly, biting at his bottom lip and Wade feels like he’s been punched in the _gut_ because yes, _good God yes_.

 

Wade doesn’t answer Peter with words and instead crawls onto the bed between his legs, holding himself above the younger man and grinning down at him. “We haven’t fooled around on a real bed yet,” he says teasingly before he presses down, dragging his teeth down the pale column of Peter’s throat and basking in the way Peter’s hips press into his.

 

They make out for what feels like _hours_ but is probably closer to twenty minutes, working themselves up enough that when Peter _does_ finally grip his ass, pulling him in tight and grinding his hips up, Wade feels like he might come in his pants.

 

If the sounds that Peter makes is any indication than he’s definitely not alone in _that_ at least, which is _excellent_.

 

“I want--” Peter pauses, pulling Wade’s head away slightly so that they can look each other in the eye, “--I want you to fuck me, _please_.”

 

And that’s _definitely_ not the way that Wade thought this was gonna go, if only because Peter has been pretty gung-ho about being in charge when they mess around so he was definitely expecting him to want to be the one doing the fucking. Not, of course, that Wade is going to complain because, “Absolutely, hell yes, I am one hundred percent down to fuck you silly.”

 

Peter laughs and lets go of Wade’s face, letting him bury his face against his shoulder and grind their hips together one more time before Wade decides that he’s wearing way too many clothes. He apologizes as he gets off the bed, pushing his jeans off his hips and tugging his sweatshirt over his head and trying not to blush at the heat in Peter’s gaze as he looks at him.

 

He wants to cover himself back up and he does hold the sweatshirt to his chest for a moment until Peter says, “Wade, you’re _hot_ , and I enjoy looking at you.”

 

Wade laughs at himself and then tosses his sweatshirt to his feet, climbing back onto the bed in his briefs. “I’m gross but thank you for thinking I’m not,” he says lightly as he feels Peter’s fingers drag across his scarred torso. Wade hooks his fingers in Peter’s boxers and, regretfully, tugs them down his thighs, making Peter squirm slightly as he’s laid bare.

 

“I _love_ your body,” Peter insists, sitting up and hooking his fingers into Wade’s briefs, “And your cock, and your _face_ , but if you keep talking shit about yourself I will smother you with a pillow.”

 

Wade laughs and lets Peter push his briefs down, lifting one knee and then the other to get his briefs off and onto the floor, joining his clothes and Peter’s boxers on the ground. “If you smother me there won’t be any fucking,” Wade reminds lightly as he pushes Peter back onto the mattress, settling between his thighs and groaning as their cocks touch for the first time that night.

 

“You severely underestimate my willingness to fuck your passed out cock,” Peter says breathlessly, making Wade cackle and press his face against Peter’s shoulder. “The lube is under the pillow,” he says as he squirms under Wade, wrapping his arms around Wade’s shoulders.

 

Right, lube, that’s important.

 

Wade reaches under the pillow and finds the lube, and a couple of condoms. “Did you know that there’s over one hundred thousand condoms that were given to the Olympic Village?” He is just full of fun facts, apparently, and Peter looks both amused and like he wants to roll his eyes.

 

He _does_ roll his eyes but he also pulls Wade into a slow, deep kiss.

 

“Less facts and more fucking,” Peter teases as he pushes at Wade’s shoulders, spreading his legs and giving him the best _come fuck me_ eyes Wade has ever had the pleasure of seeing.

 

“Well, well, what a turn of events,” Wade says as he rips open the condom, setting it to the side before he gets his fingers all lubey, “ _You_ telling _me_ to stop dishing out facts, aren’t you the one that was yelling science shit when we first met?”

 

“Believe me,” Peter giggles as Wade cracks open the bottle of lube and spreads is over his fingers, “If I had known we were going to end up like this I would have tried for a better first impression.”

 

Wade scoffs as he warms the lube up between his hands, trying to be considerate. “That was the _best_ first impression,” he says as he looks between Peter’s flushed cheeks and his cock dripping precome onto his stomach. “How did you want to do this?” Wade asks as he wiggles his lube covered fingers at Peter, grinning.

 

“Just like this,” Peter answers, raising an eyebrow and wiggling his fingers back at Wade, “I want to be able to see your face.”

 

“Don’t make me blush,” Wade says, blushing slightly as he ducks his head, dragging his lube covered fingers up Peter’s thigh and leaning forward, wrapping his lips around the tip of Peter’s cock and earning himself a choked off moan for the effort.

 

While he’s blowing Peter he starts fingering him, one finger sliding in like it’s _nothing_ and...“I fingered myself before you got here,” Peter explains and Wade glances up at him as he presses in the second finger, groaning around Peter’s cock.

 

Peter wiggles slightly against him, his hands going to his head and guiding his mouth carefully, doing well not to choke Wade as he eases a third finger in, this one more of a tight fit. Wade pulls off of Peter’s cock and starts sucking bruises on his hip bone, thrusting his fingers slowly and making the man below him groan and wiggle his hips down until he’s bottomed out, Wade’s fingers in as far as they’ll go. “You look so good like this,” Wade says as he shifts back, curling his fingers in Peter’s ass slightly and taking in the picture Peter paints, his cheeks and chest flush and his fingers tangled in the goddamn Canadian flag that’s still under his body.

 

“If you don’t get your cock in me I might _die_ ,” Peter says dramatically, sounding more winded than he did right after he won that gold and _that_ thought is enough to spur Wade into action, slipping the condom on and coating his cock liberally with lube.

 

“Hold your horses,” Wade teases as Peter wraps his legs around his waist, tugging him in and sounding like he might actually die if Wade doesn’t fuck him and it’s honestly the best thing Wade has ever heard.

 

He presses the head of his cock against Peter’s entrance and presses in slowly, biting back a curse at how _tight_ he feels around him. “ _God_ , Wade,” Peter sounds breathless and his hands are tight on Peter’s shoulders as Wade’s hips press against him ass.

 

“Peter,” Wade can’t seem to say anything other than his name because he’s lost in the feeling. He stops himself from saying anything else by pressing his lips to Peter’s, kissing him deep as Peter shifts his hips, drawing a groan from Wade.

 

It’s unsurprisingly short, because the whole goddamn _Olympics_ has been building up to this very moment right here, Wade’s cock buried in Peter’s ass and the other man holding onto him like he’s something goddamn _precious_ . It doesn’t stop Wade from apologizing as he feels himself getting close, “This is gonna be over _way_ earlier than expected.”

 

Peter laughs and Wade drops a hand to curl around his cock, starting to jerk him off. “Me too,” Peter bites out as Wade’s fingers twist on the upstroke, his ass tight around Wade’s cock and drawing him even _closer_ to the goddamn edge.

 

Now all Wade wants to do is get Peter off before he gets himself off, which is less work than he was preparing for because three strokes into jerking him off Peter’s shaking and coming across his stomach, making a mess and making Wade feel like maybe he’s died and gone to heaven. Peter’s O face _never_ gets old, and Wade doesn’t last longer than two more strokes before he’s arching down, pressing a messy and misaimed kiss to Peter’s cheek as he comes in the condom.

 

Peter starts petting Wade’s head as he presses his face to his shoulder, breathing hard and not wanting to move. “You were so good,” Peter whispers, his voice rough and making Wade shiver just a bit.

 

“Thanks,” Wade says, feeling a little off kilter, “You were too, _obviously_.”

 

Peter laughs and Wade finally lifts his head, looking him in the eye.

 

“I want to see you again after all this, when we’re back home,” Peter says quietly, cupping Wade’s cheek. He says it so _easily_ , like he’s not giving Wade everything he’s ever wanted in one stupid sentence.

 

Wade is grinning and he _knows_ he is as he eases his cock out of Peter, watching the way he grimaces slightly. “You’re in New York, yeah? Makes things easy as hell because I am too,” Wade answers as he pulls the condom off and ties it off, tossing it into the trash can next to the bed.

 

Peter blinks up at him and says, so slowly that Wade’s not one hundred percent sure that he hasn’t broken him, “But you’re Canadian.”

 

“I am, but I have an American green card,” Wade says with a grin, raising an eyebrow and watching as Peter processes everything, his face an open book, “I was born in Montreal but I live in Hell’s Kitchen.”

 

“Oh my _God_ ,” Peter pulls Wade down into one hell of a kiss, throwing him off balance enough that Wade ends up putting his whole body weight on Peter. “I was so--” he’s speaking between kisses “--ready to do the long distance thing--” another long kiss, this one just dirty enough that Wade feels his dick get interested, “--fuckin _Hell’s Kitchen_.”

 

Wade laughs and the next thing he knows he’s on his back, Peter straddling his waist and grinning down at him like he just told him Santa is real. “Best Olympics _ever_ ,” Peter says as he reaches for the other condom, ripping it open with his teeth and wiggling his eyebrows at Wade.

 

Yeah, Wade thinks as Peter slides the condom onto himself, squirting lube onto his fingers, _best Olympics ever_.


End file.
